


Blue roses

by Nande_chan



Category: Candy Candy
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nande_chan/pseuds/Nande_chan
Summary: One says it with roses, the other with Shakespeare.
Relationships: Anthony Brown/Terrence "Terry" Graham Grandchester
Kudos: 4





	Blue roses

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother tongue and so if you find a mistake and want to tell me, I'd be grateful.
> 
> Terry's dialogues are mostly from Shakespeare.
> 
> And if you wonder where is Candy, well let's say she died instead of Anthony or maybe she ran to Pony's Home or perhaps she is an amazon now. Whatever you prefer.

“A blue rose, for me?”

Anthony only smiles and keeps his hand spread with the rose. But Terry hesitates, he knows the meaning behind the flower and he’s terrified. So, he chooses to do the most stupid thing he’s ever done in his life.

“You’re not going to name it ‘Sweet Terry’, are you?”

And it works. Anthony freezes and drops the rose. After a few seconds, he turns his back to Terry and walks away, not once looking back.

Terry thinks that if Anthony would have destroyed the rose, the picture would be complete. A shame, considering is the prettiest rose Anthony has grown.

Maybe, and only maybe, he was a bit out of line.

* * *

Both of them know that they don’t have much in common, they don’t share interest and their way to navigate life is diametrically opposite. A thousand and one times they’ve asked themselves, how is that they can spend all that time with such a person.

But there are details united them, trifles that go beyond the obvious. For starters, none have a mother… almost literally. One’s is dead, the other’s is as good as if.  
  
One is passionate about roses and whenever he talks about them, there is nothing else in the world. The other lives by and for the theatre, recite Shakespeare and imagine himself on a stage being a king or a beggar is what keeps him alive. They have the same expression and any difference between them evaporates, everything has another shape and soon the external world disappears.

Anthony doesn’t know how to express his sentiments through words. Terry knows what words he should say and how to do it, but speaking being him is never an option. When Anthony wants to say congratulations, he gives him a white rose. When it’s sorry, then the pink rose shows. Without mistake, I like you is a red rose. And there is also the blue one he has in his room, the one he’s not ready to give… but it might be time, he thinks.

  
Terry has never liked roses. At least, not until he met Anthony and he began to say everything through them. Every time he remembers the industrial quantity of flowers that he has, he imagines opening a flower shop, it wouldn’t be too bad, he’d be free of his father and his awful political family.  
  
The truth is that Terry cannot explain to himself how is that he can interpret in that exact way what Anthony wants to say with every rose. It’s as if there were something else between them, something Terry is scared of.

That’s why he thought it was better to just let the things be as before and stop whatever they had.

* * *

Terry never says sorry. Never has regrets (maybe he regrets that time when he kissed Annie Britter, but in all honesty, he was too drunk to control whatever he did). He’d never had regrets, until this afternoon.

He keeps remembering over and over again the hurt look in Anthony’s face and the bitter gesture that has no place in a kind person like him. He also continues to caress the petals of the rose.  
  
It doesn’t matter how many times he tries to deny it, he needs to fix it. Hurt Anthony is not what makes him happy. Funny thing, since when he cares about an American brat?  
  
He knows he needs to give an apology. He, the great Terry Grandchester, has to ask for forgiveness. He’s going to give his best performance.

* * *

“More light and light, more dark and dark our woes.”   
  
There is no answer.   
  
“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”

Still, no answer and Terry begins to get tired of talking to a back.   
  
“The words are full of falsehood or art; the look is the language of the heart.”   
  
Some seconds go by and he remains still. Terry stars to despair, and when he clears his throat, hears a defeated sigh.  
  
“What do you want, Terry?”  
  
Anthony isn’t looking at him yet.   
  
“The wise does not sit to mourn, but cheerfully puts his task of repairing the damage done.”  
  
“I see, why?”  
  
And why, indeed, Anthony has to react as calm as ever. So sweet and understanding. It’d be easier if he hit him.   
  
“In some respects, it makes a beast a man, in some other a man a beast.”  
  
“Yes, definitely you’re a beast.”   
  
Terry thinks he hears Anthony’s giggles and perhaps his act is already working. But then Anthony hugs himself and Terry listens to his voice break.  
  
“Go away, please. I want to be alone.”  
  
Terry deep breaths, he never believed that his words could be so hurtful. If only he had known…  
  
“The course of true love never did run smooth,” Terry mutters to himself. Anthony doesn’t breath, he’s paralyzed. Meanwhile, Terry realises of what he just said and that Anthony heard it. For the first time, he curses Shakespeare.  
  
“What did you say?”

“The course of true love never did run smooth.”   
  
Anthony hasn’t moved yet, but now he seems inviting, he doesn’t seem to be rejecting him. So Terry walks to him and gets close to his back. Closer and closer. And whispers.

“O, teach me how I should forget to think!”   
  
Anthony is surprised, turns his face and meets with Terry’s. His blue eyes telling him a thousand things, disarming him. His nose breathing against his neck and his lips too close.  
  
Terry is also aware of the distance between them, and he finds it excessive and more unbearable with every second.  
  
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” And as soon as he finishes, Anthony feels Terry’s mouth over his.  
  
It’s not a tender kiss, as he promised, it’s demanding and Anthony is willing to respond. Nonetheless, he doesn’t submit himself to the kiss, as Terry imagined, he wants control, he wants to dictate the rhythm and Terry lets him.

“You’re a fool.”

“Shut up.”   
  
Skin is what Terry needs. To touch more skin, smell it, lick it. And the damn uniform making everything quite difficult, only another reason to hate even more the school. He begins with Anthony's waistcoat and when he finally can dispose of it, slide a hand under his shirt.

Meanwhile, Anthony gets closer and closer. He has the same need as Terry, but he wishes to explore somewhere else instead of the chest, so he plays with the zipper and the bottoms of Terry’s trousers. When Terry notices it, there is already a hand caressing his bum, a hand that just five seconds ago wasn’t there.  
  
He can’t repress a moan that drowns in Anthony’s neck.  
  
None of them knows how Terry ends lying on Anthony, nor how Anthony’s hands wander Terry’s ass and back. Nor do they notice the way in which Terry opens Anthony’s shirt and sucks his nipples. They are so lost that their brains are only capable of registering the sensations, but the facts neither the actions.  
  
Soon Anthony decides that it’s not only Terry’s trousers that are in his way, but the waistcoat and the shirt are also obstacles too. But the bottoms are troublesome. Terry is sure that the true reward is in Anthony’s bulge.  
  
While both of them struggle with the clothes, Terry realises that he has neglected Anthony’s lips and believes that the moanings are complaints about their irresponsible abandonment. As he is not a cruel person, immediately returns to his duty.  
  
The motion that was planned to distract Anthony, distracted him instead, and the weak boy reverses their positions and straddles him. Anthony touches his chest and doesn’t think to break the kiss.  
  
After Terry recovers from the surprise, he begins to caress Anthony’s tights and drinks the moans that Anthony makes. He was so thirsty.  
  
When their lips depart, Terry notices how hard and needy Anthony is.

  
“I don't know if my hand can express what my heart feels.”  
  
Anthony supports his hands on Terry’s chest, scratches his pecs and bends in a way Terry had never imagined.

“Stop… I…”

“You…”

Neither can finish another word, so they just gasp.   
  
With what little willpower Anthony has left, he puts Terry's hands away and adjusts his position once again. Now he sits right on Terry's cock.

Terry is stunned. His mouth is dry and he can’t breathe. Does Anthony really want ...?  
  
Yes, apparently he wants it.  
  
Anthony seeks the friction of Terry’s dick between his cheeks, he moves faster and faster, and Terry can't help but rub against his rim, tempting him. He is not even inside Anthony and Terry feels everything around is on fire. There is no air and he is suffocating.

Terry has died and wakes up in Elysium. He thinks that these sensations are so good for a simple mortal like him and maybe, perfect blond beings do exist and they are gods wandering among roses.

Anthony gets up and lies next to him, satisfied and flushed. Sweat runs down his forehead and makes his hair stick. His lips are red and swollen. He looks quite handsome, so sexy. So much that Terry craves him again. The fatigue won't last long.  
  
“Are you tired?” Terry asks looking straight to Anthony's eyes.  
  
The smile that Anthony gives him is full of promises.


End file.
